


The Underside of Ghostbusting

by GBHoltzFan



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Anger, Dark, Death, F/F, Fun, Hurt, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Pain, Relief, Sadness, Sex, Something about nothing, Suicide, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-24 03:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 10,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13204638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GBHoltzFan/pseuds/GBHoltzFan
Summary: A collection of short, very short, sometimes dark tales.





	1. She Did Not Want to be Captured

It all started when they got a call for an older apartment building. They trapped the unruly one who was causing havoc in the lobby. They were told about another one, on the top floor, Holtz and Erin offered to check it out since the elevator was broken. 

They pushed the apartment door open and slowly made their way in, clearing each room, until they got to a small alcove. They didn't shoot right way. This was different. It was a "scene": an old lady, siting a table, sipping from a cup. When they approached, she raised her head, looked at them, and went back to staring to must have been tea or coffee. The whole scene was kind of transparent, bluish, shimmering. The Ghostbusters weren't sure what they were looking at : a portal, a fold in time, a memory? 

"Oh Hello! Can you hear me? My name is Erin, Erin Gilbert, Dr. Erin Gilbert, professor of physics at Columbia University.

The ghost seemed to look Erin up before returning to her cup.

"We don't want to hurt you. We're scientist. We'd like to know more abou..."

With a hand gesture, the old lady shut up Erin. 

Holtz got her attention when she asked : "Hey Lady ? Do you want to come with us or turn to green goo?"

For the next 20 seconds, the ghost stared at the cocky ghostbuster, knocking the joy out of her.

"Holtz ? What's happening? What did she say?"

Holtz wouldn't answer. She started walking towards the exit. The front door and every door in the apartment slammed shut.

Holtz leaned against the wall, looking pained, remarked "I guess leaving is not an option."

Not getting any answers from Holtz, Erin turned to the ghost: "What do you want " Erin didn't hear words, she felt them. 

"Erin? Holtz? What's is going on upstairs? Are you done?" cackled the radio.

Holtz aimed and pulled the trigger with none of her usual joy or bravado. The old lady didn't fight, didn't move, didn't explode. Holtz didn't let go of the trigger until the floor was covered with ectoplasm. 

"What took you so long, everything ok?" asked Patty, seeing them slowly walk down the stairs. 

"Just a sad, old ghost." answered Erin. 

Holtz mumbled "...I didn't sign up for this."


	2. The Broad in the Tavern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old lady dies in a bar.

She'd come in, once in awhile, sit down, order a beer, drink it and leave. 

There's really nothing special to say about her. She'd smile and politely order, pay, and leave a decent tip.

She was a little pudgy. She dressed like she didn't care about clothes. Her hair was short, not cut nor styled in any way. She didn't wear any make-up nor jewelery except for a watch. She did not make any effort to be attractive. 

While she drank her beer, she'd look expressionless at a spot on the wall. Sometimes she'd close her eyes for a second, clentch her teeth, swallow hard and return to the spot on the wall. 

She didn't use a cellphone, which, nowadays, is unusual. 

She looked empty, tired, tired of living. She gave off a "leave me alone" vibe. Nobody approached her. No one talked to her. 

This was her monthly or semi-monthly "social" minus the human interaction. Would she know how, had she ever known, wanted or needed interaction? Was she lonely? Did she have a purpose?

The barman knew her firstname. She wasn't from here, wouldn't be here long, she had said, just passing through. 

She keeled over one night, dead she was before she hit the deck. Trouble was, she never left. Every so often, a chair would overturn, a glass of beer would go crashing. The regulars paid no mind. "It's the old broad", they'd say. "Bad for business", the owner said.

The Ghostbusters were called. They laid the trap, called her and waited. They didn't need their proton guns. The apparition positioned itself over the trap, ready to be sucked in. It had no fight left.

The bar flies cheered when the trap clang shut. "Take out the garbage", they chanted.

The Ghostbusters got paid and returned to their HQ. There was no celebration. 

"Do we go to hell for killing her soul?" the ever-spiritual Patty asked.

"It was 'assisted-suicide' Patty, it's legal." decided Erin.

"Atoms and molecules don't have a soul." claimed Abby.

"She wasn't garbage." huffed Holtz.


	3. Clang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ghostbusters trap a self-harming entity.

"I got three more notices this week. Even Ms Lebreux is moving out. They've had enough with the banging and screaming. I'll pay. Can you get rid of that thing?"

The owner took the Ghostbusters to a small room, next to the furnace. Abby took out the PKE meter and sure enough, the signal was strong. They waited.

"Did you say something?"

"No, it wasn't me."

A smoky blueish/greenish "thing" was taking shape. Whatever "it" was, it was hitting itself -- a real slug fest -- and letting out broken cries.

"Any back story for this location, Patty?" wondered Abby.

"Nope, nothing at this address: No murder, no crime, no death."

"Perhaps living was the crime and dying wasn't punishment enough." proposed Holtz, pulling hard on the trigger.

"We should partner-up with my uncle." suggested Patty, as an afterthought, after hearing the canister clang shut.


	4. Another One Bites the Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short dialogue between a ghost and its buster.

"Have you ever stopped dreaming?"

"Asleep or awake?"

"Either, both..."

"Like totally nothing, blank?"

"Yup."

"Can't say I have."

"I did. It's like the flat line of a heart monitor."

"Is that why we're here?"

"Yup."

Clang! Another one bites the dust...


	5. Hot

"She hit you again, Holtzy?"

"My fault, I got home late..."

"She's jealous?"

"She saw the Instagram pic."

"Holtzy, you know that's not love, right?"

"I know. She's got nowhere to go."

"You're gonna stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, I'll use one of the cots."

"Why don't you move here? Saves on rent. Zero commute time. And if that bitch ever came here, I bet you anything Erin would deck her."

"Hot!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo !!! Suggestion ? Please do :-)


	6. Light Beams

Work was her drug. If she pushed past empty, she'd be sound asleep the minute her head touched the pillow. If she screwed up...

If she screwed up, she'd feel her mid-section tightened, her throat constrict, her mouth fill up with an early version of tears. She'd clenched her jaws, push her tongue against the roof her of mouth, trying to keep the tears from getting to her eyes. She'd feel a sob start deep in her chest and work it's way up and out. She'd feel the vice squeeze her heart. She'd roll up in a ball and rock her pain away. 

One night, she realized she had been watching herself from above. It felt the same yet different. She figured if she timed it just right, the pain would leave the moment all four light beams converged on her.

It did.


	7. Sphynx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holtz and Patty are back at the Firehouse after a bust.

\- "Little fucker scratched me."

\- "Holtzy, ghosts can't scratch."

\- "Look, I'm bleeding! He shredded my back."

\- "Are you sure it was a ghost?"

\- "I never said it was a ghost."

\- "I'm confused."

\- "I was attacked by a hairless cat."

\- "A cat with no hair?"

\- "No fur, Sherlock"

\- "What have you been inhaling, Holtzy?"

\- "I'm telling you it was a cat."

\- "When did this happen?"

\- "At Whiskers R' We."

\- "The whole lot of 'em were ghosts."

\- "Furonica was a ghost?"

\- "You named the hairless cat Furonica???"

\- "No, she's the ... oh never mind."


	8. Smoking Kills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team busts a smoker

While the rest of team was getting the gear out, Abby questioned the caller:

"I was in the living room. First I noticed the stink, like an ashtray. Then there was smoke, cigarette smoke. After that, it sounded like someone was going through every drawer in the house, searching for something. Then I saw her, my aunt: she's been dead for years. I was reading her diary."

> It's kinda sad. One disappointment, a minor disappointment really, and I'm back contemplating buying some cigs. But that's the pattern, isn't it? I get a little sad or lonely or whatever, and first thing I want is to reach for a smoke. It's my security blanket. The smoke, burning its way in my lungs, is my emotional crutch. No begging, no disappointment. So, there's the immediate relief. Then, there's the long-term benefit: it should shave off at least 10 years of my life, more if a cancer shows up. It's a win-win.

The team went inside. Holtz produced a cigarette and a lighter from gawd knows where, lit the smoke and called the ghost. "Come and get it." The ghost appeared: it wasn't pretty. Holtz gave the signal and within seconds there was nothing left but a pile of stinky goo.

Yup, smoking kills.


	9. Pattern

One drink : Holtzmann starts to dance.

Two drinks : Holtz is pulling others on the dance floor.

Three drinks : Holtz is pole dancing.

Four drinks : Holtz gets loving slow dancing.

Five drinks : Holtz hugs the toilet bowl.


	10. Home

Abby and Patty left for the day. Holtz looks my way and winks. I shut down my laptop. She stuffs her hands in her pockets and walks over to my side of the room, rolling her shoulders, swinging her hips, licking her lips. 

She's wearing her paint-splattered coveralls and a cropped t. I've been distracted all day thinking of this moment.

She doesn't pause: she bridges the last step between us, our bodies, our lips, in one fluid movement. Then we're both home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's 2 moments to cherish forever (and not necessarily in this order) : falling in love and the first time you touch your newborn child.


	11. Kicked Puppy

The sharp "Don't touch me" hit Holtz harder than a back-hand slap. She mumbled "sorry" and disappeared in the furthest, darkest corner of her lab, where she stayed for the rest of the day, fighting tears. 

That night, she waited until her girlfriend was asleep before going to bed. She clung to the side of the bed, making herself as small as possible, thinking of an exit strategy.

She scurried to work, heartbroken.


	12. The Interview

I write for a business magazine and my editor wanted an article on Dr. Jillian Holtzmann. Dr. Holtzmann has been nominated for a 40 under Forty award. I reviewed what we had on the Ghostbusters and Dr. Holtzmann and googled her name.

So much personal information is out there, for someone who doesn't even have a public social media presence:

\- petite, 5'3, 100-110 lbs  
\- prefers vintage clothing,  
\- early 30s,  
\- graduated from top universities,  
\- gifted artist (musician, writer, illustrator, drama, comedy, voices),  
\- identifies as gold star lesbian,  
\- mentions of two ex-gf - no details, current status unknown  
\- enjoys dancing and baking,  
\- low tolerance to alcohol, drinks coffee (black), Coca cola, and water  
\- favourite snack : pringles  
\- feedback from friends, colleagues and acquaintances: well-liked, kind, funny, talented  
\- has stated:

> \- needs to feel something towards a woman to have sex,  
>  \- would not hit a woman,  
>  \- would feel jealous in a three-way scene,  
>  \- feels she doesn't assert herself sufficiently in a relationship,  
>  \- talking to herself,  
>  \- being "weird", different,  
>  \- cutting her hair  
>  \- doesn't think she has very effective pick-up lines.  
>  \- ear and neck sensitive,  
>  \- pulling her hair is ok during sex,

\- loves to kiss and make out,  
\- prudish in public,  
\- has a mortgage,  
\- 57 trademarked inventions/designs,  
\- pet owner,  
\- driver' license: unknown, self and others have reported poor driving skills,  
\- large, dedicated fan-base,  
\- uses public transit, walks.

The interview was to take place at the Firehouse. We had agreed I would first take some photos, then have 15 minutes with her co-workers before sitting down with Dr. Holtzmann.

I took the usual pics: team photo, discussion, action shot, head/shoulders, etc. The camera loves her! Going up the stairs, I snapped a last one where she was leaning against the banister, looking at something or someone. It was sexy as fuck.

Team dynamics is always interesting, albeit predictable, especially in an all-women team : there's the friend, the den mother, the middle child and the young wild one. I got the predictable quotes : "brilliant mind", "driven", etc. Two things struke me: they really do care for each other and all three are protective of Dr. Holtzmann. (The non-verbal message was quite explicit: "You hurt "Holtz", we hurt you.") There was a malaise around the table when I asked if Dr. Holtzmann had any "romantic interests." Ms. Tolan reminded me the interview was about professional accomplishments. Dr. Yates racked me over the coals over this "sexist" question. Dr. Gilbert chose this exact moment to go refill her coffee cup. When I asked if the presence of an eccentric genius on the team posed any kind of challenge, especially with funding agencies, I thought Dr. Yates was going to kick me out. "Don't go there." was all Ms. Tolan said, but the tone was telling. I backtracked, and apologized profusely. Dr. Yates and Ms. Tolan left. The interview was officially over. As she was leaving, Dr. Gilbert offered: "We've all been hurt because we were different, Jill more so than most. You don't need to go there for your article, do you?" I assured her I wouldn't.

I went up to Dr. Holtzmann's work area, sat down, and watched her work. She was welding, dancing, singing, talking to whatever contraption was on her worktable. Every so often, she'd find a pencil in her hairdo, annotate the schematics and resume the welding/dancing/singing/talking routine. It was like stepping in a "joy bubble", a fucking sexy one! I wonder if she has any idea of how attractive she is... At the end of one of the songs, she turned off the music, walked over to me, extending her hand. "Holtzmann, amped to meet you." I took her hand, smiled, introduced myself and just stood there, mesmerized.

Without pulling her hand away, she motioned with her eyes and head we should sit down. That's when I came back to my senses and let go of her hand. I stammered an apology. In the most playful voice, she asked me; "What's up, Doc?" and I blurted out "You". And we both laughed. Losing my composure worked out for the best: I got to interview "Holtzy".

I didn't pry in her past or in her private life. I didn't need to : she gave me enough to write an interesting, original article. We wrapped up. I was going to ask if I could invite her out sometimes. She was looking at Dr. Gilbert. And Dr. Gilbert was looking back at her, with a soft smile. "Jill" ...

Oh fuck ... I see ... Gilbert is damn lucky !


	13. Ten minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning sex at the Firehouse

I raise my head. We've got 10 min. before the alarm goes off. 

I lick and nip Holtz' neck. She lets out a soft moan. I drag my hand over her breasts, lightly rub her belly and tickle the inside of her thigh. She lets me in. I swirl and massage her sweet spot. She rocks her hips, keeping time with me. I go faster, she arches her back, squeezes my fingers, groans and relaxes.

"Good morning, babe!" I whisper in her ear. 

She opens her eyes, moans a "good morning" and latches on to my neck. She must have been a vampire in a previous life. 

We still have a few minutes before the alarm rings.


	14. Enough

"Holtz, did you have a chance to fix the chipper?"

"Holtz, we're running out of proton grenades."

"Holtz, I need your report."

"Holtz, you're late again. "

She wants to scream "ENOUGH". She aches all over. She has nightmares.

The homefront is no better. "Jill, it was your turn to do the laundry ..." "Honey, you don't smile anymore."

She feels the weight of the world on her shoulders, the non stop demands are wearing her down.

She gets sloppy, takes shortcuts, and poof!

"Holtz, I told you to be more careful. Now, look at what you've done."

She picks herself up, arm tingling, ears ringing and walks away.

Another day, another dollar.


	15. #MeToo

As the women sat around the table, coffee in hand, talking about the latest serial sexual harasser to be outed by the #MeToo movement, Holtz was pensive. 

As a women lover, consent-seeking at every step was part of her DNA. She didn't want any part of a hook-up or of a relationship not to be comfortable for herself or her partner, especially for her partner. She couldn't imagine pushing herself on a woman, or pushing a woman into sex. Flirting she did. Hell, she was currently engaged in a flirting campaign with Erin. Was she being a creep?

Let's face it. Although by the time she enrolled in engineering long gone were the days of Lady Godiva, male engineering students were notoriously sexist pigs. She had heard every lewd comment, seen every disgusting cartoon, and more than once had rescued girls from those assholes. Yet she wondered if she had absorbed some of the creepiness and entitlement oozing from her classmates.

After all, she did comment, repeatedly on Erin's shoes or small bows. She did blatantly, hungrily look at her. She did touch her shoulder or hold her hand a mite longer than necessary. How many times had Erin scolded her and told her to stop it? Was she being a creep?

"Holtzy, you're awfully quiet. Are you here?"

Holtz looked at Patty and said "Just thinking".

Erin stopped talking and turned to her. "Are you ok?"

"I don't know. I'm I a creep?" she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always more questions than answers ...


	16. #MeToo (Part 2)

"I don't know. I'm I a creep?" she asked.

Her question hung heavy in the air, her co-workers trying to wrap their head around what Holtz was asking. 

"Holtz, you may be weird as shit but you're no creep!" 

Abby added "You can't seriously be wondering about that, Jillian!" Erin nodded in agreement.

Later on, Erin approached Holtz when they were alone in their workspace.

"Can we talk?"

"Yuppers...what about?" Holtz, in inventor mode, took off her welding mask and sauntered over to Erin, not waiting for an answer.

Erin bit her lip. "Your question this morning, was it about your flirting with me?"

"Yes, that it was."

"I figured that much. I don't know how flirting goes in the grand scheme of #MeToo. I can only talk about us."

Holtz was nervously wringing her hands, not looking up, reminding Erin of a picture of a kid sitting in the principal's office. She had to start by reassuring the younger woman.

"You're not harassing me, your flirting is not sexual harassment. You're not a creep, far from it."

"But,there's always a but, right Erin?"

"No but. You're my co-worker, you're my friend. You feel safe showing affection and I feel safe when you show me affection. When we're happy, when we're sad, we hug, we touch and we feel safe doing it. And I know you always leave me room to say no. You follow me?"

The "Yeah, yeah, sure" coming from Holtz forced Erin to reluctantly address flirting.

"Sometimes, I take myself too seriously, I get annoyed at your playfulness and I shot you down. I think playfulness is one of the way you express your inner joy. It's beautiful. And correct me if I'm wrong, I think it's also your way of expressing interest, of testing my interest. That's the flirting part, isn't it?

Holtz grinned: Erin was finally getting there.

"You're not creeping me out when you wink or leer at me with an appreciative smile. Don't deny it: I've noticed. Just like I know you noticed when check you out in that damn cutoff shirt. That's beside the point. It's not unwanted. I feel safe with you. 

"Sooooo... I can flirt with you guilt free?" asked a relieved Holtz.

"Easy there, Casanova. Yes you may."


	17. Taking Care of Business

Holtz mostly sleep alone, which she truly disliked. An empty bed was cold, lonely, a painful reminder of heartbreaks. She tried populating the "other side" with a giant stuffed cookie monster. It didn't help. She wired the cookie monster to give off heat. It didn't help. She added a gadget to mimic a heartbeat. It still didn't help. Sleep was elusive, a mind-torture she dreaded.

She came to see sleeping on her workbench and on the couch (preferably using Erin's lap as pillow) while watching TV as viable alternatives. 

In reality, she usually crashed in a bed in one of three circumstances: 

\- if she wasn't alone in bed,  
\- if she dead tired and sure to be asleep before touching the pillow, or  
\- for "self-care".

Her sister Ghostbusters simply blamed her weird work hours habit as the logical explanation for Holtz sleeping on or under her workbench or on the couch. 

On self-care nights, she'd turn on the fairy lights, place toys and lube on her bed, strip and slip between the sheets, plug the ear buds in her IPad, and surf to whatever favourite scenes would set the mood (currently a couple of hot scenes from Below the Mouth), and took care of business. In the relaxed after glow moments, she'd peacefully drift to sleep.

They all took care of business, they all knew they all took care of business. It just wasn't discussed. They respected each other's privacy, at night checking first to see if there was any light before knocking, waiting for the go-ahead before entering.

Until one hot summer night...

Erin, forever a light sleeper, heard a noise, sprung up and barged into Holtz' room. The first syllable of the word she as about to say died in her throat as her eyes scanned the bed and her mind processed the data. The only part of Holtz covered by the sheet was one foot. She was sprawled on the bed, stark naked, one hand resting on her short and curlies, sound asleep. The IPad clearly was about to slip off her.

Erin froze on the spot: she knew she was invading Holtz' privacy at the worst possible time. But FUCK, this was HOT! Decency finally won over and she backed out of Holtz' room, softly closing the door behind her. She hurried to her room and locked the door. Right at the moment, she had better things to do than investigate the noise.

"Erin, was I dreaming or did I see you in the doorway of my room last night?"

Holtz' tone was casual but the corners of her mouth were twitching upwards.

In her best dismissive tone, Erin tried to side-step the question, answering she had heard a noise and might have opened the door.

As casually as she had asked the first question, Holtz pushed a little harder: "You liked what you saw?"

Seeing Holtz' smile and playful eyes, Erin smiled and expressed concerns for the IPad.

"How 'bout we watch that movie together the next time" enquired Holtz "or not, perhaps you've seen it already."

Erin wouldn't be bested by Holtz: "Not if it's going to put you to sleep..."

Abby walked in, interrupting the banter, before Holtz had a chance to reply.


	18. An Offer

Holtzmann logged out of her email account. The offer from the international research corporation was enticing: mentor post-grads, free reign in her lab backed with a rich budget, access to the brightest minds and technology, generous patent-sharing deal, free company condo and car. And the salary ... wow !

After five years working with Abby, four as a Ghostbuster, the engineer was getting bored. She cared a great deal for her co-workers, her work "family". The four Ghostbusters had grown into a close-knit cohesive group. They had each other's back, their personal and professional lives intertwined.

As a Ghostbuster, Holtz had a legion of adoring fans. At first, she basked in the attention but it became a bit much, invading her privacy, feeling stalked. The gossiping about her private life was getting to her. It was straining her relationship with Erin, and there was always the danger that it would jeopardize the relationship with City Hall.

The emotional support she received from Abby, Erin and Patty was over and above anything she had ever experienced, unlikely to be duplicated anywhere else. Leaving the safety of her ghostbusting tribe, scared her. 

She felt disloyal at even entertaining the idea of leaving her team to pursue professional goals. Would she cause Ghostbusters to disband? Would harm come to her friends because she had abandoned them and wasn't there to repair and tweak the equipment. At core, Holtzmann was one of the most loyal person anyone could find.

The CERN incident was another factor. The subsequent investigation had completely exonerated her of any and all blame. Still ... 

She closed her eyes, trying to imagine Erin's or Abby's reaction if she approached them for advice. Not good. Patty would be supportive.

She stepped out in the alley to call Dr. Gorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you gotta move on to grow ... but what a gut wrenching decision ...


	19. If Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holtz is not in a good place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Skip to another story if a dark emotional state triggers you.

It happens again tonight.

Holtz has just finished re-coiling a pack, some jazz playing in the background. Out of nowhere, "it" grabs her in the gut. She shuts her eyes tight, takes a couple of deep breaths, hoping "it" will disappear. She concentrates on the lyrics: 

"The lady with the torch is your one and only friend"  
"In the city that never sleeps your nightmare never ends"

That doesn't help much. She wants to ... no, she isn't going to say the words, not even in her mind. 

She grabs a pair of wire strippers, intent on creating some distraction. She throws them back on her workbench. She thinks of Patty's stash: she wouldn't mind. She thinks of the bottle of whiskey in the kitchen: no way! Mornings are too painful.

No, she has to control "it". 

She stands there, trying to empty her mind, trying to chase away images, thoughts, feelings. Periodic table - number, symbol and name. She can't concentrate long enough to do it.

She sits on the floor, folded in two, hugging her knees. All she wants to do is bang her head on the cement floor to stop the pain.

More deep breaths. She thinks of Erin. Noooooo. She can't go there, she has no rights to go there. She feels big, fat, salty tears rolling down her cheeks. She angrily rubs her eyes. 

"If I wasn't such a fucking coward..." she tells herself. "It" just squeezes her gut harder. More tears. She consoles herself imagining how good the void would feel.

She slows down her breathing, wipe the tears from her face, picks herself off the floor.

The worse is over. "It" leaves, for now.

She makes her way to her room, wills herself not to slow down, not to look at Erin's door.

She drops on her bed, rolls in a ball and hopes sleep (or death) will find her.


	20. Will You Marry Me?

Holtz spotted a woman sitting at the bar. She walked up to her and extended her arm. 

"Holtzmann. Virgo, pasta aficionado, 100% jazzed to meet you." The woman turned around to see who was talking to her. She shook hand with the strange looking creature who had called herself Holtzmann.

"Erin, Erin with an E."

Holtzmann was so close, their legs were touching.

"You carry a lot of tension in your shoulders."

Playing along Erin responded "I do?"

"Yeah. If I were your girlfriend, I'd take care of that." 

"Would you now?"

"Oh yeah... These hands, these fingers, you see, are magic." Holtzmann waved her hands and wiggled in fingers in front of Erin, grinning.

"That's a god awful pick-up line, Holtzmann."

"Well... If you were my girlfriend, I'd serve you coffee in bed every morning."

"Is that so?"

"Full breakfast in bed if you marry me..."

"Are you asking?"

Holtzmann dropped one knee to the floor, raised her hands and asked, loud enough for people around them to stop talking and look at them: "Erin, with an E, will you marry me? I promise to love you with all my heart, cherish you forever, and bring you breakfast in bed every morning."

Erin took a deep breath: "I don't know..."

"You drive a hard bargain. How 'bout breakfast AND flowers every morning?"

Patty's booming voice put an end to the charade: "You fools, you've been married for three years! Holtzy, get off the floor!"

Looking at Holtz, a smiling Erin added softly, "And you've been bringing me breakfast and flowers every morning."

As she hugged Erin, Holtz whispered in her ear "I love you Babe".


	21. Even You?

Seven months ago, the Ghostbusters had trapped an entity, a ghost, who kept rattling doors at a women's shelter. Patty had checked the database. Five years earlier, a worker had been killed trying to prevent an enraged abuser from getting into the shelter. A sad story really. It had been an easy bust. 

Holtzmann had noticed the place was in dire need of repairs. On her days off, she volunteered her services. With free building supplies from a Re-Store and some elbow grease, she tackled one project after the other. Rotten copper pipes and leaky faucets were replaced, the heating system finally gave enough heat to warm the whole house, the electric system was upgraded, fire and smoke detectors installed as well as a top of the line intruder alarm system. She did slightly enhance it so that at the flick of a switch, doors and windows would discharge as much power as a taser gun, discouraging any would-be intruder...

But it wasn't all work. She'd sit down with the women, have a coffee, listen to their stories. Sometimes, she'd sit down in the office with the worker on duty, and listen to those stories. Holtz didn't talk much. Over times, she grew closer to one worker, Lisa, a smart, kind, unassuming, funny, beautiful blue eyes, strong feminist, sadly married to a man (at least from Holtz' perspective).

Late one night, a young woman showed up at the door, angry, bloody and bruised. Lisa asked Holtz to hang around while she dealt with the emergency. Holtz tried hard not to hear how her step father had tried to beat the gay out of her. Once Carmel calmed down and settled in her room, Lisa returned to find Holtz sitting stiffly on the sofa. She sat down.

"Is she going to be ok?" asked Holtz, pointing upstairs, referring to the baby dyke.

"Yes. She wants to go to the cop shop in the morning. I'll go with her when the day shift arrives. You look sad. Want to talk about it?"

Holtz shook her head "It was a long time ago."

Lisa pulled her into a hug and held on until she felt Holtz relax in her arms. 

Resting her head on Lisa's shoulder, Holtz soaked in the warmth. Moments later, she lifted her head, looked at Lisa, and caressed her cheek with the back of her hand. Any closer and their lips would be touching. Reading the dilemna playing out in Lisa's eyes, Holtz didn't push it. She sweetly kissed her forehead and backed off.

"Perhaps not." Holtz said with an understanding smile.

"Perhaps under different circumstances." countered Lisa.

Upon returning to the Firehouse, Holtz tip toed to the kitchen to grab a quick snack where she met Erin, munching on leftovers.

"Fancy meeting you here. Anything left?"

"Tons. Patty was on supper duty."

The engineer fixed herself a plate, kept her eyes down on her food and the conversation to a minimum, which didn't go unnoticed by Erin. 

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

Chewing slowly, Holtz bought some time before answering "Why do I keep falling for straight women?"

She couldn't hold Holtz' gaze: the pain was so raw in her eyes. Erin looked away, bit her lip: how she'd turned down Holtz in front of Dr. Gorin a year earlier still fresh in her mind. 

"It could be they also fall for you and it scares them."

"Even you?"

"Even me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's everybody? Time to watch Ghostbusters 2016 again? Yeah ...


	22. I Got You

It was the night after Holtzmann and Patty pulled Erin and Abby out of the layline fault vortex. They huddled in their office/lab space, dazed. They had faced mortal danger, fought for their lives and won. Now it was sinking in.

They dealt with it with jokes, bad puns and dark humour. Abby and Holtz were very good at deadpan, one liners, riffing off each other. The real stuff came later, the "What ifs". Erin, Patty and Abby were able to put words to their feelings and express their fears. 

Holtz couldn't. Feelings, sounds and images flashed through her mind, short-circuiting her thought process. 

"That's it, breathe with me. You're safe." Holtzmann opened her eyes. Erin was holding her tight. 

"Breathe in, breathe out. I've got you."

Holtz stayed put, her breathing slowing down. Erin thought she heard Holtz mumble "Luvyababe."


	23. Poof Eggs

They saw her being lifted off the ground and swung around while she kept firing, kicking and cursing. The ghost exploded. She landed with a loud thud, wild eyed and miraculously unhurt.

The ghostbusters returned to HQ retelling this strange encounter. This particular ghost had never been known to be violent. It was a "nuisance" ghost more than anything. It hung around, actually "hovered" in a remote part of the park, where a bench sits under a willow tree, close to the water. At night, the place was deserted, except for the bats and this ghost. 

Holtz was checking the equipment when she heard "Remember, you promised". She turned around to see who was talking to her. She was alone. She shrugged it off. Throughout the evening, it happened a few more times. She reached out for the PKE meter. Nothing. Somewhat relieved, she dismissed the whole thing. 

She snuggled next to Erin. Soon after Holtz was off to dreamland. She woke up drenched in cold sweat, screaming "It's not what happened!"

"Erin, time stopped." Erin groaned and assured Holtz it was just a nightmare. Holtz was adamant. 

"When she grabbed me, time stopped. I was about 6 feet off the ground, I could see you. You were frozen, the proton streams hanging in the air. She was looking at me. She told me her story, not in words, in feelings. She shouldn't have been born, couldn't live, couldn't die, always looking in, not part of. We weren't alone, Erin. I could sense dozens more ghosts around us, waiting. She made me promise to help them pass on."

Erin found her lover in the lab the next morning. Holtz had sneaked out of bed during the night and gone in inventor mode. Nine eggs shape "things" were lined up on the workbench. She carefully took one in her hands, expecting the usual "Don't touch" warning from the engineer. 

"It's OK, go ahead. It's safe for humans. No poof even if you hit it with a sledgehammer. I modified the signature so it will only react to ghosts."

"Jill, what makes you think ghosts will go for it?"

"Rats go for poison pellets. Same principle. And besides, these ghosts want to go poof once and for all."

They seeded the area around the bench with "poof eggs" and set up cameras. One after the other, the eggs exploded. Playback from the slow-mo cams showed an entity holding the egg close to her before exploding in a splash of colours. 

Abby was overjoyed. This was no-risk profitable ghostbusting. Once in a while, while retrieving the cams, Holtz would feel a thank you. A win-win-win.


	24. Overstock

"Ah fuck!" spit out Abby. "Let's go, nothing here." The ghostbusters packed up their gear and left.

The intended recipient of Abby's fury attempted to gage if there was any hint of disagreement with Abby's pronouncement. No, none. She wasn't even a blip on their radar. As they dismantled and packed the equipment, Holtzmann and Patty discussed their upcoming weekend. Erin checked her messages. Obviously, the call was filed under "False call, Nothing There, Move on". She didn't try to prove her point. 

At first she thought life was pointless. She held on to this belief for 15, 20 years. Then she suspected her life was pointless. Then she understood it wasn't about life. It was about her. In the grand scheme of things, she was useless overstock.

It was a little sad she still had a speck of self-awareness. She felt the sting of rejection, self-hatred, silence. She couldn't even haunt properly.

She made her way to the otherside of the mirror. Perhaps, next time, Rowan would get it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun stuff, hey?


	25. White Shirt

Holtzmann and Erin were going to attend a dinner party, organized by the Mayor's assistant. Holtz didn't want to go. Abby told her she had to. Patty tried to cheer her up: dinner parties are fun, free food, free drinks, music. Holtzmann relented. 

She got ready, got in the car, slipped behind the wheel and waited, and waited. "Damn Erin. What the hell is taking her so long?", she wondered. She stretched on the seat, leaning against the door, and closed her eyes. 

Erin got to the garage 20 minutes or so later. She had taken her sweet time getting ready, trying one outfit after the other, until she settled on her little sexy black dress. She felt exposed going to the function alone with Holtz. This was not a date. They were representing the Ghostbusters, she reminded herself. 

She approached the car and froze as her hand touched the door handle. Holtz was sleeping, her pink lips slightly parted. She was wearing a white button-down shirt, a couple of sizes too big, and black trousers with suspenders. What really caught her eyes was Holtz' chest. The top 3 buttons were undone, her shirt slightly opened. Holtz wasn't wearing a bra. 

As she lifted the door handle, she chastised herself for thinking how much she'd like to run her tongue along the curve of Holtz' breast and slowly swipe at the pale nipple. She bit her lip and took a deep breath, tearing her eyes away from the sight.

Too late. Sleepy blue eyes were watching her. 

"Like what you see?" Holtz asked softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is somewhere between the Elle and the Vogue photos ...


	26. Wash and Rinse 2x

Erin retched at the stench. She threw her garbage bag in the container and briskly turned. Surprised at seeing a skunk next to her, she jumped and screamed. Scarred, the skunk lifted her tail, tapped the ground with her front paws and sprayed.

Erin stood there, gagging, eyes burning. She couldn't go back in without stinking the whole place. She opened the back door and yelled for Holtz to come down.

Fearing the worst, Holtz barrelled down the stairs while calling out to Abby and Patty to follow her. The stink hit them before they saw Erin. Abby took over.

\- "Patty, get the gallon of tomato juice and the dish detergent, Holtz hose her down. I'll get some towels."

\- "Really?" asked Erin as the first jet of water hit her. "It's fucking cold, Holtz, stop it."

An out of breath Abby returned and ordered Erin to strip. "Strip and put your clothes and shoes in the garbage bag."

Erin took off her outer clothes and stood there, shivering. 

\- "Naked Erin. Everything. There's nothing we haven't seen before. Patty, start pouring tomato juice on her. Erin, you have to scrub with the tomato juice. Here, use this facecloth. Go on!"

Buck naked Erin felt like Carrie being covered in blood. 

\- "Holtz rinse her off."

Holtz complied, doing her best not to look, not to laugh. 

\- "Patty, the dish detergent now. We're almost done Erin. Scrub."

Humiliated past words, Erin did as told. Patty glanced at Holtz: they both lost it, breaking in laughter, soon joined by Abby.

\- "A last rinse and it will be over." 

Erin stood ram-rod straight, soapy head to toe, nipples pebbled, trying so hard not to cry in humiliation.

\- "Close your eyes, Erin, while I rinse you down." suggested Holtz, as she pulled the water hose trigger.

Abby carefully approached Erin and sniffed. 

\- "Ok, it's not so bad now. Here's a towel."

Erin covered herself and ran upstairs. 

\- "Next time you take the fucking garbage out. I'm done."

Abby, Patty and Holtz made their way back. 

Patty turned to Holtz and remarked "Good luck with Erin."

Hanging her head down, Holtz nodded "I know: no sex tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ... groans ...


	27. Help from Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one from the ghost's perspective.

Asking for help from strangers is the easiest: 

-they're under no obligation to say yes,  
-if they refuse, I don't take it personally,  
-I don't feel like I owe them forever,  
-they don't make me feel like they own me forever,  
-they don't get to forever pull the "moral superiority" card on me,  
-they won't try to fix me/shape me into whatever they think I should be,  
-I won't develop any kind of dependency or expectation,  
-I won't hurt them / let them down 'cause I'm not good enough,  
-It won't hurt when they move on,  
-I won't have to pull or run away because they are suffocating me,  
-I don't expect them to care, they don't expect me to care.

Yeah, it's easier. It's anonymous, much like a one-nighter.

So, I asked for help from strangers twice. 

The first time, I called the cops. I acted crazy, coming out with a pairing knife. They discharged their side-arms. I thought for sure that would do it. No! No such luck. I got stuck in the "in-between" zone. 

The second time, I didn't make the call myself. I "encouraged" the new homeowner in doing it for me.

I watched as the Ghostbusters' car pulled in front of the house. The driver was a cute little blonde woman.

I held the front door open for them. The tall one complained it was creepy. The curvy one seemed to be in charge: she sent the blonde and a 4th woman upstairs, while she and the tall one went in the basement. 

I decided to follow the ones going upstairs. I never cared for the basement. It gives me the creeps.

I followed them while they started a room by room search. One was holding a strange egg beater twirling as if it was set on high. The blonde one sing sang to me "Come out, come out, where ever you are." She sounded playful. I didn't want to scare her.

I was surprised to see her check out her partner's ass, grinning. Lo and behold, she backed her into the wall and started kissing her. Wow! I stood back and watched. I could tell the way they touched that this wasn't a first. Soon, the kissing mellowed making place to a tender hug.

I figured they were done their interlude so I cleared my throat, alerting them to my presence. The one against the wall lifted her wand, pulled the trigger, blasting me out of this in-between zone.

I moved into the nothing zone. They left happy to have been of assistance.


	28. Head Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usual trigger warning : stay away.

She left as soon as she could, choking back tears on the hour-long commute, imagining accidentally veering into the path of an incoming transport. No, she wouldn't saddle some poor 18-wheeler smuck with that.

It crossed her mind, briefly, to floor it to set the stage for a "suicide by cop". She smiled at the notion: it would be highly improbable a cop would pull his gun on an unarmed, short, fat, middle-aged white woman, however crazy she acted. 

She got home and read about people being mowed down on a sidewalk, about a little boy being sweep by rising waters, wishfully thinking she could switch place with any one of them. 

She went over the reasons why she was finding herself in this predicament. Forget about venting off to anyone: venting off wouldn't change a thing. She kept her mouth shut. She dealt with a series of unfortunate events, took wrong turns, never got back on track. The only outward signs of her present circumstances were the occasional displays of impatience. Thankfully, they could be attributed to bad manners, a hot temper or any other character flaw. 

She butt out her smoke, the ever-growing pain in her chest proof her long-term plan was working. 

She retreated to her favourite day-dreaming head space, a movie where she played a ghost, being chased, trapped and destroyed by four female Ghostbusters. She mentally basked in the warmth of the movie, its joy seeping into her space, the funny, make-believe world getting her through another day.


	29. Waking Up

The thumping in her head woke her up. Holtz couldn't remember getting in bed. She opened her eyes and looked around. Where the hell was she? The last thing she remembered was posing for selfies with with fans. She sat up. She was topless. She lifted the blanket and groaned. Nude. Oh, that was bad. Where the hell was she? 

She tried to get up. The room was spinning. She had to get to the bathroom. She pulled the top sheet and wrapped it around her. At least, there was nobody in bed with her. She opened the door a crack and couldn't see anyone. Holding on to the wall, she made her way to the only opened door in the hallway, the bathroom. She splashed some water on her face, checked out the medicine cabinet and found some Tylenol.

She heard a woman's voice ask if she was ok. "I don't know yet", she replied. That voice sounded familiar. Who the hell was it? Whomever it was, she had to face the music, sooner or later. She flushed, washed her hands, took a deep breath and opened the door. If only she could remember...

Standing in the hallway was fucking Jennifer Lynch. Holtz froze. This wasn't happening. She tried to speak, nothing was coming out.

"You look like death warmed over. Coffee is ready." She followed Jennifer to the kitchen.

She sat down, resting her forehead on the table. 

"Milk and sugar?"

"Black" she grunted.

"My clothes?"

"In the dryer." 

"Oh..."

"You were pretty wasted last night."

Holtz wouldn't look at Jennifer. All she managed was a mumbled "I'm so sorry."

"You remember coming home with me?" Holtz shook her head.

"What's the last think you remember?"

"Dancing and taking selfies with college girls."

"Then?"

Holtz shook her head again. "Nothin..."

"I'm not surprised. You were falling all over when I arrived at the club. I called the firehouse. Nobody answered. I couldn't leave you there, so I took you home."

Jennifer looked across the table at the small woman clutching her improvised toga. Dr. Holtzmann still was a mess. Obviously now was not the time to tell her the whole story. She refilled her cup and busied herself making breakfast. She placed a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toasts in front Jillian.

"Eat. It will settle your stomach."

Reluctantly, Holtz took one bite after the other, chewing slowly, buying time. Jennifer jumped up when she heard the dryer buzzer.

"Finish up while I get your clothes."

When Jennifer returned to the kitchen, Holtzmann had cleared table and was sitting on the edge of her seat. 

"Your clothes are in the bathroom, along with a towel and a toothbrush. Shower and then we can talk."

Holtz nodded and dragged her sorry ass to the bathroom. Her clothes were on the vanity, neatly folded. She did as she was told. While she let the water cascade down her body, she plotted how she would bolt out of there. Then she realized she didn't know where her phone, her keys and wallet were. So much for exiting through the window... 

She returned to the kitchen, feeling a little more human, waiting for the speech, which would surely come. 

"You're looking a little better, Jillian. May I call you Jillian?"

Holtz shook her head. "Holtzmann, please" This was her shield. She felt vulnerable enough without being called "Jillian" like a child. She could feel her bottom lip starting to quiver: she bit it and sat down, still not looking at Jennifer.

"I can tell you feel awful, Holtzmann" to which Holtz nodded "I won't scold you but for fuck's sake, tell her how you feel." Holtz hit her head against the table a few times. "Your stuff is on the coffee table in the living room" Holtz made a beeline to the living room as she heard Jennifer finish her sentence "you left it there after you stripped 'cause you didn't quite make it in time to the washroom."

Holtz stopped to face Jennifer who had followed her to the living room, knowing from experience if she stripped, she got amorous. 

"Oh no, I didn't, I didn't try anything did I?", looking up to Jennifer for the first time, eyes big as saucers." 

"Oh, yeah" answered Jennifer, smiling. "You won't get anywhere calling me Erin... You're a good kisser, though. I'll give you a lift home, I have some errands to run."

Holtz preened a bit at hearing Jennifer thought she was a good kisser but didn't dare comment. 

The drive to the firehouse was silent, except for the radio playing some kind of Sunday morning public affairs program.

Before exiting the car, Holtz asked in how much trouble she was, quite aware Jennifer could shut down the Ghostbusters or get her fired. 

"This is your one free pass. Don't let it happen again."

As Holtz was leaving the car, she added "And talk to Erin ASAP or I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning after is a b*tch !


	30. Broken

Jaw set, eyes cast on a crack in the flooring, back slightly rounded, Holtz shook her head and said in a barely audible voice "I'm trying." The nit-picking went on. Holtz made a good punching bag. 

When someone asked Abby who she was dumping on, Holtz saw her chance to grab her backpack and leave. 

\- "Where are you going?" Holtz walked pass Erin briskly, without answering.

Patty joined Erin to listen Abby bad-mouth Holtz: she's never on time, goes off to do whatever, is messy. And she went on and on, even trying to draw Patty and Erin to "her" side. 

To avoid antagonizing Abby, they stayed silent. After all, they didn't want to incur the wrath of their newly named "manager."

Out of words, Abby stomped to her desk.

\- "Did she say where she was going?" whispered Patty to Erin. 

\- "No" dropped Erin.

Holtzmann had walked away, for good. Broken, the illusion of family and love shattered, she got work at a junk yard, smiling sadly at the irony.


	31. The Honeymoon is Over

Holtz smiled, the kind of "far smile" that, by the time it reaches the eyes, feels like the end of a sad movie.

"No, I don't mind. You go and have fun!" To herself, Holtz added, "while I write a resignation letter." She didn't want to bust Abby's excitement at being invited to attend a meeting with X. It was a long time ago, perhaps X wasn't Jekyll and Hyde anymore. Why should she pick at a scab, expose her pain, so Abby can just write it off as another lesbian drama?

Holtz was mad at herself for not speaking up the first time Abby mentioned X's name. Why didn't she stand up for herself and say "I know X, she abused me for 2 years. You're getting sucked-in by the public side. The private side is very different." Why did she not confide in Abby? Was it shame, so common in intimate partner violence, or the fact that she still had nightmares, usual byproduct of abuse, or did she not trust Abby anymore? She had acknowledged knowing X without endorsing Abby's glowing review. Why did Abby keep bringing up X's name? Was she fishing for a reaction? Before, Holtz unusual silence would have tipped off Abby. It didn't anymore. Boss Abby never asked.

It wasn't that her dissent was too discrete, it's that Holtz' voice is now heard as irritating background noise. She signed up as a partner, to create science, to bring her expertise and knowledge to the table. Abby wants a docile, compliant employee, a tool, expected to bow and lick ass.

It is high time Holtz leaves. She's unhappy, negative, angry, her smile, more often than not, sad or snarly. Now, when she thinks about the Ghostbusters, she no longer thinks about the joy of pushing the limits of science, or the surprise look of Erin watching her dance with lit blowtorches. Now, when she thinks about work, it hurts.

Patty noticed. She knows the gig is over - she's reminded every day, in so many subtle and not-so-subtle ways to kiss the ring and shut up. 

"The longer you stay, the smaller you're gonna feel." 

Upon hearing Patty so simply state a fact, Holtz lays the ratchet on her worktable and sits down on the stool, listening.

"If you go, Abby and Erin will stick to theoretical research and shut down your experimental lab. They've already received a hush-hush offer from a government agency."

"They have? What about you?"

"I'll go back to the Transit Commission."

"I've got nowhere to go..."

"I've got you, Holtzy."


	32. Peeping Tom

Psssssfffff

The lone occupant slipped out of the depressurized trap box and floated about. 

It heard voices and saw four humans watching magic coming out of a black frame. The ghost kept flipping back and forth between dimensions, too weak to make any sense of it.

At one point it registered only two were remaining. The crazy hairdo was the one who had pulled it into the trap. The ghost mustered enough energy to follow her. 

Voices again. It checked out the surroundings: it's a bedroom. Crazy hairdo is a woman. She's with a woman. Naked. The ghost watched, mesmerized.

The next morning, coming back from the shower, Holtz noticed a glob of fresh slime by the bed. Nothing was out of place. Erin had slept peacefully (oh yeah, had she ever!).

She spotted another glob when she retrieved her shoes from the tv room. She ran to her lab, checked the vault and the traps. Fuck ! One had cracked open. The alarm hadn't sounded: the ghost was still in the firehouse. 

She replayed last night: they watched RuPaul, Abby and Patty went to bed. Erin and her made out on the couch before taking it to the bedroom. Glob of slime by the couch. Glob by the bed. Well, fuck me, it's a goddamn peeping tom!

Holtz, ever the scientist, decided to test her theory. She gathered equipment and went into the bedroom. She looked at her modified watch. Sure enough, the needles were spinning wildly. She had to get Erin out of harm's way. She woke up Erin with a giant hug, whispering in her ear "Don't say anything. We're not alone. Get dressed, come to the lab and follow my lead." 

At the lab, Holtz checked her watch. The needles were spinning. She had to buy some time and distract it before it turned dangerous. When Erin arrived, Holtz pulled her into a dance, a slow, seductive dance. She nipped at Erin's neck, ran her hands over her body. She took a step back, and teasingly started taking off her t-shirt.

Swinging the t-shirt over her head as she walked away from Erin, swaying her hips and trusting her pelvis, she suggested : "Erin, why don't you meet me back in my bedroom in 5?"

Holtz checked her watch. The game was still on. She kept dancing as she entered her bedroom and closed the door. She stripped, slipped between the sheets, let one hand roam over her breasts, throwing a few moans for good measure while her other hand was busy grabbing the proton gun she had left in the bed earlier.

She would have one shot before all hell broke loose. Where was the ghost standing? Where would it be to have a good look? She reached to the side-table, seemingly retrieving a toy, her eyes scanning the floor for the tell-tale glob.

Gotcha ! She pulled the trigger. The ghost screamed in pain. Grabbing the second gun, she jumped on the bed, and kept firing until it exploded, slime flying in all directions.

Erin, Abby and Patty walked into the bedroom to a stark-naked fiercely smiling Holtz, doing a victory dance on the bed, holding two smoking proton guns.

This made for an interesting report...


	33. Good News

The three ate their lunch in silence : Abby trying to spear a lonely wonton from her soup, Patty eating and reading, Erin pushing the salad around her plate. It just wasn't the same without Holtz. She had gone with Dr. Gorin to troubleshoot an old Candu reactor. It was only for a month. They could get by, but it wasn't the same. 

Since then, she had sent a couple of selfies and had texted a request to check a formula. That's all. 

Erin looked around : Abby was nowhere in sight, Patty was deep into a book. So she opened the folder marked "Photos_Holtz" on her computer and went through the pics, one by one, remembering the moment. It helped. 

Her phone lit up. "Done. Boarding right now. ETA 23:00"

Tears building in her eyes, Erin felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off her chest. 

"Abby, Patty ! She's done. She'll be here tonight." Erin heard them cheering the good news.

She took a deep breath. All would be alright.


	34. BDE

"Erin, do I have BDE?"

"What?"

"BDE: big dick energy?"

"Holtz, you don't have a dick." 

"BDE isn't about dicks." 

Patty, who had remained quiet until now chimes in "Yeah, you have BDE."

"See! Patty knows."

Erin slowly eyes her girlfriend: the way she stands, hands in her pockets, head cocked to the side, mouth slightly open, with those blue eyes, watching, smiling, taking Erin to triple x-rated territory in milliseconds. Clearly, Holtz has BDE, tons of it. 

"Yes, I guess so." she answers Holtz.

In her best Foster Hewitt voice, Holtz lets out: "She shoots, she scooooooores!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well ... do YOU think she has BDE?


	35. Someone Else

"Is something bothering you, Holtz?"

Abby closed the cover of her laptop. The workday was over, there was no rush. Holtz' answer would be anything but straightforward: causes, results, hypothesis, analysis, comments, observations, wishes, fears, facts, hurt, oblique references would tumble out, the body language switching between the practised and the raw. 

Abby looked at Holtzmann, and waited. There was no need to repeat the question. Her engineer would either answer or not: right now, she was weighing her options. She didn't need to hold anything back from Abby. Abby wouldn't judge her. Some things Abby can touch but never feel, so she organizes and sorts out thoughts like footnotes and post-its by subject, relevance, and priority. Abby is good at seeing patterns. She has a knack for decrypting seemingly random noise. Holtz rambled on for 30 minutes or so before Abby interjected:

"So, it's twofold: you feel you're a prisonner to your public personna and you miss your privacy, you miss being anonymous?"

Holtz carefully considered Abby's conclusion, nodding.

The next morning she showed up at work, in full Ed Sheeran makeup.

Abby smiled, not overly surprised at Holtzmann' disguise.


	36. A Blinding Flash

Is it real or is she dreaming?

Has she felt her fist connect with her head? 

Today has been good, one of the best. 

The old nylon rope, biting her skin.

Out of time.

She'll lie and pretend. She's good at that. 

Perhaps they're fooled. Perhaps they can't care.

Perhaps, like her, they're pretending.

She's almost there.

The voices. A woman screeches "Set the trap."

Another is out of breath. "Got her!" 

A blinding flash. 

It's over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of those don't ask don't tell shorty.


	37. Mike

How much ectoplasm can a ghost-cat spew? Turns out just enough to cover Erin's boots. The bust had gone well, with minimum damage. Erin and Holtz accepted the client's invitation to stay for a coffee. 

The client, a gregarious old lady, delighted in having celebrities in her home and hearing their stories. It was the epitome of vicarious living. 

Breaking Erin's convoluted story-telling, Holtz asked "Who was the cat to you?"

The old lady's smile froze. Her eyes moved to a speck of paint on Holtz' boots. Seconds ticked away. She debated whether to describe how Mike used to climb her legs and back to sit on her shoulder or how at night he would get under the blanket, cuddle and go to sleep, how she'd wake up with Mike still resting his head on her shoulder, how Mike had been her most stable, reliable relationship ever. And now he was gone, gone again. She was lost, heart-broken.

Play resumed. She willed herself to tap down her distress and responded: "Mike, Mike The Cat, was my old furry friend. Do you like cats?" Her mouth managed to form a smile again as she looked her interlocutor in the eyes. 

Holtz refrained from what would normally be her go-to, easy laughs, mildly in-your-face response, mumbling instead: "I hear you. I'm so sorry." and signaled Erin it was time to go.

The client was left mourning her astral companion, her last connection to life. 

"What was that all about?"

"We had to leave, Erin. Some things we can't fix."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is #InternationalCatDay.


	38. Creak, Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If suicide is a trigger, don't read. Move on to another story

The venerable oak office chair creaked as her body swayed. Forehead resting on the desk, the bottom of her fists drummed the beat in the back of her head, like loud music drowning out drunk neighbours. She's been a vocal gun control (ban) advocate: how she now wish she could walk into any Canadian Tire, put down a couple of bills and walk out with a loaded handgun. She'd be considerate enough not to pull the trigger in the store. She'd wait until she got inside her car. Oh well, no harm wishing. 

Oh, how she wish kind arms would pull her into a hug, rub her back, and let her cry until she ran out of tears. Stop. She's got to ban that wish - it brings nothing but burning rivers of tears. 

Hanging will have to do. This time of year, there's no flies, it shouldn't get too bad. She can be in the tub, decomp juices won't mess the floor. Yeah, that's doable.

Ok, she stopped crying. That's good. Each time her heart beats, she feels it punch against her chest, as if she'd run a mile. That's not the way it should be: she shrugs it off with an ironic smile. "You fucker, can't you do the decent thing for once and stop working? Jesus Fucking Christ!" More tears. 

She blows her nose, wipe her cheeks and her eyes. She found a rhythm: heart beat, inhale/exhale, sway right, right first drops on head, left fist drops on head, sway left, heart beat ... It's like the ticking of a clock.

"What the hell is this?"

"I don't know, man. Kevin took the call." 

The four ghostbusters formed a semi-circle behind the blueish lumpy thing, trying to figure out what was going on. The noise was annoying: creak, bang, creak, bang. No wonder the new owner wanted to get rid of it, whatever "it" was.

Holtz set the trap. 

"On 1, Patty and Abby, you take the top, Erin and I will go for the mid-section. Let's go !!!"

Done. Easy peasy. The client is happy: no fuss, no mess, a clean job. Ka-ching!

Nota Bene: Typically, a Canadian ghost isn't aggressive unless its been bitten by a rabid nationalist condog, in which case you can expect tons of foul smelling ectoplasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween !


	39. I've Got to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue between Patty and Holtz

\- What are you waiting for Holtzy? Ask her out!

\- After she shot me down in front of Gorin?

\- You know Erin. She needs time to work out things in her mind. You caught her by surprise.

\- I don't want to make a fool of myself a second time. She knows I'm interested. It's her move now. 

\- Holtzy, for crying out loud! She's so awkward and insecure, she's probably still kicking herself for saying she was going out with beefcake. 

\- Straight women only bring me heartaches.

\- How do you know she's straight? She could be bi or closet-gay...

\- Patty...

\- You're a science woman. What does your gaydar tells you?

\- Jesus Christ, Patty... All right. It pings. I don't trust it. I'm not sure she wants to be gay.

\- Ask her out, for fuck's sake! Your pining and drooling over Erin is driving me cray-cray!

\- Hey Erin, you're back. Holtzy has a question for you. I've got to run, I'm meeting my uncle.


	40. Post-Coitus

She settled in Erin's arms, her face softly nuzzling against the crook of her lover's neck. Her eyes closed, her respiration slowed. Holtz was like a cat stretched out in the sun, peacefully sleeping.

Sleep didn't come so easily to Erin. For weeks, she'd worried about being with Holtz, scared it would be awkward, scared she'd be too anxious or wouldn't know what to do. 

She lovingly ran her hand down Holtz' nude back, who responded with a soft groan, almost a purr. 

Holtz... No, she didn't have anything to fear with Holtz. Her fierce yet gentle Holtz.


	41. Busted!

Holtz, wearing a cut-off t-shirt and coveralls tied at her waist, arms up, rolling her shoulders, rotating and trusting her pelvis at the sound of music was a major distraction for Erin, the flashing expanse of soft white flesh driving her mind far away from the scribbled equations.

As the song ended, Holtz leaned on her workbench, calling to Erin: "See anything you like?"

Busted!!!


	42. Spotify

Dr. Holtzmann was feeling antsy, needy, hungry. More than usual. That morning she wore her hip hugging tight, oh so tight, black jeans, a button-down shirt, a vest and a pride tie around her neck.

She waited until Patty and Abby left for the day to play her Spotify list, tailor-made for the occasion. She started dancing for Erin. By the time Black Velvet played, she had Erin's complete attention. The next one was the instrumental version of Harlem Nocturne, a classic, during which she started to seductively remove her vest, one button at the time.

By the end of the next song, Holtz had unbuttoned all but the middle button of her shirt. She moved to straddle Erin, daring her, with her eyes and smile, to unbutton the last one. 

Otherwise busy, they didn't hear the music end.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love a sequel to the 2016 GB ...


End file.
